In My Heart Is Where You'll Be
by bertiebert
Summary: Matthew was glad to inherit his papa's salon, but never thought that owning it might lead to spending his life with someone. AU - NethCan & FACE family
1. Chapter 1

_**First of all, I apologize for the crazy long title. It's not as long as some of my others, but it's still quite a mouthful. In case you don't recognize it, the title is a line from Colbie Caillat's song "What If" which I can totally see as a NethCan song. It's so cute.**_

_**Second of all, I got the idea for a hair stylist AU from a set of fanart that I saw on Tumblr with Matthew as a hair stylist. I decided to run with the idea and make it into a romance. Here's the link to the pics: panoramiccc (dot) tumblr (dot) com / post / 16132552747 (just delete spaces and replace (dot) with a period). Also, see if you can catch the little hint at the Netherlands's hairstyle in the fic.**_

_**Note: The rating may go up later on, but for now it is T.**_

_**Enjoy, and review to tell me what you think!**_

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><p>When Francis handed over the keys to his salon to his son, he knew that Matthew would be one of the best stylists in Quebec, and possibly Canada. The child had grown up around the salon, and Francis had decided that once Matthew had completed his years at cosmetology school and worked for him for a while that he could eventually take over. Francis was getting up in age, closing in on his mid-forties with no one but his partner, Arthur, at home. He felt that it was time to relax and spend some time with his husband after they raised their two boys. Matthew's older brother, Alfred, had joined the Royal Canadian Air Force fresh out of high school. He loved every minute of it, working on the airplanes and fighting for his country. But Matthew had chosen a more subdued line of work, following in his papa's footsteps. Little did he know that it would lead him to someone that would change his life forever.<p>

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><p>It was a bright summer afternoon and the salon wasn't busy whatsoever. Matthew was sweeping up the remnants of hair from his last customer, swaying to the music coming from the high end stereo system. He danced across the slick floor and mouthed the words to the broomstick he held. When the bell above the door jangled, he spun to find a tall young man stepping into the salon. He smiled tentatively at Matthew, his hands stuck in the pockets of his shorts. Matthew leant the broom up against the wall and crossed the room.<p>

"_Bonjour, comment puis-je vous aider?"_ Matthew asked, sliding behind the reception desk.

The young man looked a bit flustered. "I-I don't speak French. I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't apologize. I should be the one that's sorry. I forget that not everyone knows French. I apologize. How can I help you?"

"Do you do walk-ins? Or do I need to make any appointment?" The man shifted a bit uneasily, glancing around.

"We do walk-ins. Come on back," Matthew rounded the counter and led the young man back to the wash chairs.

As Matthew washed his hair, so soft it was almost silk, he tried to put the man at ease.

"Where are you from? I don't recognize your accent." Matthew cupped his hand on the man's forehead, blocking the spray of water from getting soap in his eyes.

"I'm originally from Amsterdam, but I just recently moved here. I played soccer in Amsterdam and was contacted by the Montreal Impact team. So I moved here to play for them. It was a much better offer than what I had in Amsterdam."

"That's a long way to move, though. Do you have any family in Amsterdam?" Matthew ran his fingers through the soft hair, massaging conditioner into it.

"No. My parents died when I was in my teens and I don't have any siblings. I was raised by my aunt for a while until I went off to college and she disappeared. Paid my way through college and found that I was great at soccer. It's been my entire life ever since." Noticing how much he'd been talking, the young man blushed. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

Matthew smiled, nudging his glasses further up his nose with his wrist. "It's fine. There's a bit of a joke about hair stylists that we're something akin to therapists. I truly don't mind if you want to vent all your frustration and talk the entire time you're here or sit there and be quiet. I've had plenty of both types of customers so you're not the first to want to talk. I'm told that I'm a very good listener."

The young man smiled, and Matthew found butterflies had taken up refuge in his belly. He draped a towel over the man's head, rubbing it vigorously as he sat up. Once he had the young man in his chair, Matthew recalled never asking his name.

As he searched for a comb he asked, "I'm so sorry, but I forgot to ask your name."

"Lars," he replied. "Van Der Beek. It's a mouthful, I know."

"I'll agree that it's quite a name, but it's very poetic. I like it. Do you know what it means?" Matthew parted the man's hair down the middle with the comb he finally located and began detangling it.

"My surname means 'from the creek', which is ironic because I did grow up by a creek. I loved to play in it as a child. Lars is just another form of Laurence in Scandinavian. What's your name?" Lar's eyes, such a vibrant green, met Matthew's in the mirror.

"Matthew Kirkland-Bonnefoy. My fathers are French and English. I have three English names and one French. It's a bit confusing, actually," Matthew remarked as he tilted Lars's head down slightly. "Look down just a bit for me."

"You're fathers are gay?" Lars peeked up at Matthew in the mirror.

"Mmm-hmm. They mean the world to me. I could care less if they're gay or not, they're still the men that raised me and my older brother. Does it bother you?"

"Oh no, not at all. Some of my best friends are gay. And they're some of the best soccer players I've ever met. I've actually attended some of their weddings in Amsterdam since the Netherlands allows same-sex marriage. I assume your fathers are married since Canada allows it as well?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure how they ever found each other or thought that it'd work out. They're complete opposites, but they truly do love each other. I always loved seeing their wedding pictures around the house. My brother and I never hid that we had two fathers because we didn't see anything wrong with it. We loved our parents and thought they were just as good as any of our friends' parents. Now, how much do you want taken off?"

"Just start with an inch and we'll go from there, I suppose." Lars closed his eyes and just listened to the soft snipping of Matthew's scissors and his humming.

It was several long minutes of Matthew's concentrating on his work and Lars's sitting obediently. He stayed quiet, thinking over this and that, and let Matthew work. After a few moments, Matthew ran his fingers through Lars's hair, pulling it down to check the length.

"How does this look?"

Lars opened his eyes and watched Matthew ruffle his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. "It looks great."

Matthew smiled at him in the mirror, those dark blue eyes making Lars's heart flutter. He smiled back, setting his feet on the bar of the chair.

"Do you style your hair at all?" Matthew asked as he dried Lars's hair roughly.

Shaking his head slightly, Lars met Matthew's eyes in the mirror. "No. Soccer kind of keeps me from styling it. It would just get ruined and sweaty."

"That's probably why you're hair is so soft and healthy. You don't damage it. Would you like me to style it for you? You don't have soccer practice after this, do you?"

"No, I don't have practice." Lars chewed on his lip for a moment. "Sure, go ahead and style it."

Matthew shook Lars's hair out after it was mostly dry. He thought for a moment before crouching and digging through a drawer. "How about if I spiked it?"

"That's fine, I guess. I'm not very experienced in styling hair, so I'll let you call the shots." Lars grinned at Matthew when the young man stood, and Matthew smiled back.

Scooping out a bit of the putty, Matthew rubbed it between his palms before running his fingers through Lars's hair from his temples to the ends. His hair was short enough that it stayed up nicely and the piecey texture gave the Dutchman a little more of a rough around the edges look about him. Matthew was glad to see Lars smiling when he stepped away to wash his hands.

"Do you like it?" Matthew dried his hands, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

"I really do. You may have converted me. Can I buy some of the putty you used?" Lars stood from the chair, bending slightly to let Matthew unsnap the cape from around his neck.

The Canadian smiled shyly, draping the cape over the chair. "Of course. I'll get it for you."

Lars watched Matthew walk to the wall and reach for a jar on one of the higher shelves. "Wait, let me help you."

Matthew stepped aside and let Lars retrieve the jar. The Dutchman's T-shirt rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin on his hip and just the top of a tattoo. When he fell back onto his heels, Matthew smiled and took the jar.

"Thanks. Come over to the desk and I'll ring you up." Matthew tried his best to hide his blush and fight back the desire to _just kiss him already._

After Lars had paid and was tucking his wallet back into his back pocket, he looked reluctant to leave. Swallowing hard, he tapped his fingertips on the desktop. "Thanks again," he said, glancing around nervously before meeting Matthew's eyes again. "Umm, look, would you like to maybe go out sometime?"

Matthew's face lit up into the brightest smile Lars had ever seen. "Yes, I'd love to."

Lars grinned. "Great, we can switch phone numbers, if you want."

"Of course." Matthew plucked two business cards out of the small stand and found two pens, handing one card and pen to Lars. He printed his name and cell phone number on the back of the other card, sliding it to Lars. "When are you free next?"

Lars gave the card and pen back to Matthew, glancing over the one Matthew had given him. "I have practice all this week, but I'm free Friday afternoon. What time do you close?"

"Usually around four on Fridays, but I can close earlier."

"I don't want you to if you're busy. Whenever you finish up is fine. I'll call you to set up what time and where we should meet." Lars smiled, sliding the card carefully into his wallet. He didn't want it to get creased.

"That sounds great. I'll talk to you later then." Matthew leaned against the counter, and waved timidly as Lars left.

Flipping the sign to _Closed_ and locking the door, Matthew turned up the radio and danced as he swept up the floor again. He'd never been that happy doing clean up, but he had a date on Friday and almost nothing could ruin his mood.

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><p><strong>Translation(s):<strong>

_Bonjour, comment puis-je vous aider? - _Hello, how may I help you? (French)


	2. Chapter 2

**I really do apologize for the long wait. Life happened and other plots happened and this was put off. I hope it's not too disappointing, though, and everyone likes it. Review and tell me your thoughts!**

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><p>Rushing home to his apartment, Matthew hoped that he wouldn't be late meeting Lars. It was his first date in close to seven years. Lars had explained over the phone that he was usually very quiet, but had found himself very talkative around Matthew. The Canadian had laughed, cradling the phone close to his ear, and told Lars he truly didn't mind if he spoke at a mile per minute; it was nice to hear his voice. They'd agreed to meet at the French-American restaurant in downtown Montreal at five o'clock and it was nearing four-thirty. Matthew had to shower, change clothes, and make it downtown to meet Lars in thirty minutes.<p>

"I can do this," Matthew muttered to himself, throwing his bag onto his kitchen table and already undressing as he moved to his bedroom.

He took the fastest shower of his life but took almost fifteen minutes to choose his clothes. He discarded more articles of clothing than he thought he even owned, before settling on a pair of dark jeans and a white button down shirt. Making it to the restaurant with one minute to spare, Matthew accepted a warm hug from Lars and was glad to see he'd styled his hair. Lars settled his hand on the small of Matthew's back, opening the door and ushering him inside.

They received a booth in a secluded corner of the restaurant which allowed them to talk and flirt and not be bothered by patrons or waiters. Lars was talkative, something that unnerved him a bit, but let it happen since Matthew was all too willing to listen. He did get some stories and conversations out of Matthew, but his years of staying in the background forbade more lengthy speeches from making an appearance. So Lars got over his aloof personality to bring a few more smiles to Matthew's face and hear that slightly accented voice give comment to something he'd said.

Their night ended with Lars walking Matthew back to his apartment. Tentatively, Matthew reached to tangle their fingers together. When Lars didn't shake him off, instead gripping his hand tightly, Matthew smiled and leaned into the taller man. They walked, too caught up in one another to pay attention to anyone else, all the way to Matthew's apartment in quiet conversation. Matthew found that Lars often replaced phrases in English with phrases in Dutch, but sympathized considering he used French quite a bit. At the door to Matthew's apartment, after skirting around the doorman who knew Matthew's fathers, Lars finally worked up the courage to kiss the Canadian.

It was a sweet kiss, chaste but not lacking in passion. When they pulled away, Matthew was blushing and smiling and Lars just had to kiss that smile again. Matthew stroked his fingers through Lars's hair, mussing it and giving him a more disheveled look. They parted again, panting softly, and nuzzled against each other's cheeks. Lars held Matthew close, not wanting to let him go.

"Would you like to come in?" Matthew asked, fiddling with the side seam of Lars's shirt.

"I would love to, Mattie, but I have practice early tomorrow morning," Lars explained, tucking a piece of hair behind Matthew's ear.

Matthew reached up to cup his hand around Lars's cheek. "It's fine. I was just asking. I don't want to come between you and your soccer. Play hard for me tomorrow."

Lars grinned, kissing Matthew on the forehead. "I definitely will."

They kissed once more, smiling and holding onto each other tightly. When they pulled away, Lars chucked Matthew underneath the chin gently and stroked his cheek. "I'll call you in a few days, alright? I'm a bit busy with practice, but I'll make time to see you. I promise."

Matthew smiled, his cheeks turning pink at the last statement, but nodded and squeezed Lars's hand before watching the taller man depart down the hall. He waved to Lars as he stepped into the elevator, grinning when the Dutchman winked back at him. There was the promise of more time together in the future, and Matthew kept his sights on that to make it through the weekend.

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><p>It was the middle of the week before Lars and Matthew could see each other. They spoke on the phone almost every night, one or both of them inevitably dozing off sometime during the conversation. On a overcast day, Matthew was just finishing with a customer when Lars walked into the salon. He rounded the counter quickly, throwing his arms around the tall man and kissing him sweetly.<p>

"I've missed you," Matthew said, cupping his hand around Lars's cheek and smiling widely.

"I've missed you more, I'm sure," Lars teased, holding Matthew close and kissing him again.

Matthew found a stool and brought it around to the reception desk, letting Lars sit with him as he worked on payroll. Lars would occasionally lean in to steal a kiss or say something teasingly sweet in Matthew's ear. Then Lars's hand settled on Matthew's back, rubbing gently and working out the knots he found there.

"You should see our team masseuse. He's amazing," Lars commented, kissing Matthew's neck and making him giggle adorably. "So you're ticklish?"

"No," Matthew lied, batting away Lars's hands and squealing when Lars pulled him closer to brush his lips over the pale neck. "Stop!"

Lars laughed, smoothing Matthew's hair and releasing him. "I'm sorry. I won't tickle you anymore. But your laugh is the cutest thing I've ever heard."

Matthew knew his cheeks were turning pink, but he didn't mind all that much. They talked more, recounting their pasts and learning every little thing about one another. Their conversation was easy and relaxed, Lars often leaning against Matthew's shoulder and leaving kisses against his jaw. Lars turned Matthew to face him, spontaneously kissing him and cradling his face in his hands. Matthew smiled into the kiss before relaxing and letting Lars warm, slightly chapped lips coax his open. Just as their tongues tentatively sought the wet heat of each other's mouths, the bell above the door jangled and Matthew jerked away.

"_Papa!" _Matthew covered his mouth with his hands, his cheeks burning a bright scarlet.

The blond man that stood in the doorway raised his eyebrows at the couple. "Care to explain why this young man has his tongue down your throat, _Matthieu?"_

The question wasn't terribly biting, there was a hint of genuine interest, but Matthew knew just how protective his family was of him.

"_Papa,_ this is Lars Van der Beek. Lars, this is my _papa_, Francis Bonnefoy. _Papa_, Lars and I are…dating," Matthew explained quickly, sitting up straighter and squeezing Lars's hand.

"Mm." Francis shook hair out of his face and regarded Lars. "Where are you from, Lars?"

"Amsterdam, sir. I moved here to play soccer," Lars answered confidently.

"And you don't plan on hurting my son by moving back to the Netherlands or just breaking his heart, correct?"

"Correct. I care very much for Matthew."

Matthew ducked his head, smiling shyly, and leaned into Lars. Lars's arm went around Matthew almost automatically, and they both caught Francis's smile.

"Then I have no qualms about your relationship. Now, _Matthieu,_ your father and I want you to come to dinner tomorrow night. Alfred is coming home on leave for forty-eight hours before he leaves for Afghanistan and we're having a dinner for him. I'm sure Arthur and Alfred would love to meet Lars, if he is free of course." Francis leaned against the counter, and Matthew leaned in to kiss his _papa's_ cheek.

"I am free tomorrow evening, and I'd love to come if you want me to," Lars said, looking at Matthew.

"I don't want you to be scared away once you meet my family," Matthew joked, smiling at both Francis and Lars.

"I promise that, once I meet your family, I will not leave you." Lars laughed, kissing Matthew on the cheek.

"You two do make quite a cute couple," Francis remarked, smiling and winking at his son.

"Thanks, _papa_," Matthew murmured. "Give my love to Dad."

"I will, _Matthieu. Je t'aime, mon fils. Être sûr."_ Francis kissed Matthew on the cheek and shook Lars's hand. "I 'll see you tomorrow evening."

When Francis left, waving through the window and grinning when Matthew waved back, Matthew buried his face in his hands and Lars rubbed his arm.

"I'm so sorry, Lars. I had planned to let you meet my family, but not this soon. You don't have to come tomorrow. Don't feel as if you have to."

"Nonsense," Lars replied gently, kissing Matthew's temple. "I want to come. I think it'll be good to meet your family early on. Everything'll be just fine, baby."

Matthew smiled, leaning into Lars and let the Dutchman hold him close. Lars drew patterns on Matthew's back, kissing his hair and offering what comfort he could.

"I need to go pay a visit to my coach, Mattie, but I might be able to see you later tonight. Are you free?" Lars voice was soft and lulled Matthew into a sort of daze every time the other man spoke.

"Mmm, yes I am. My entire life is the salon. I've got a few friends outside of the other stylists, but I don't see them often." Leaning back to look into those amber green eyes, Matthew kissed Lars's jaw. "What did you have in mind?"

"Maybe just some takeout at your apartment. Nothing too fancy, but still could be considered a date, if you want." Lars smiled, devastatingly handsome and sly.

Matthew laughed softly. "I'd like that, actually. Do you want to get the food on your way over?"

Lars nodded. "You just wait eagerly for me, look cute when I get there, and I'll be the happiest man on Earth."

Grinning, Matthew leaned in to kiss Lars quick and soft. "Well, go on if you need to see your coach."

"I can stay another minute or two. Besides, we were interrupted the first time." Lars leaned in, molding his lips to Matthew's once more, and kissed the Canadian almost tenderly. It was with much trepidation and reluctance that Lars finally pulled way. He cradled Matthew's face in his hands, smiling. "I'll call you when I'm on my way over."

Matthew nodded. "Be safe."

"You, too," Lars whispered, kissing Matthew once more softly before rounding the counter and giving a wave. He pushed open the door, but turned and blew Matthew a kiss.

Giggling and flushing embarrassedly, Matthew grinned and waved him away. "Go on, before you're late."

As Lars finally took to the sidewalk outside, hands in his pocket and glancing up at the clear blue sky, Matthew thought over how long it had taken him to feel so at ease with someone. There were still times when he was conservative around him family, but with Lars he wanted to tell the other man everything. Lars brought out a side in Matthew that he didn't know he had; a more lovable, affectionate side that in turn led Lars to be more talkative. They brought out the best in each other, as every couple should.


	3. Chapter 3

**Not much to say about this chapter except that it took me forever to write it. I apologize for that, but I hope you like it anyway!**

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><p>Scuffing the toe of his shoe against the sidewalk, Matthew waited for Lars outside the salon. The sound of bike tires clicking made him look up. Lars smiled at him, making Matthew's heart flutter excitedly, and swung off his bicycle in front of the Canadian.<p>

"Am I dressed alright?" He asked after he kissed Matthew's cheek.

"Oh, yeah. That's fine. We can lock your bike up in the salon, if you want. And come back by to get it later. My car's right around the corner."

At Lars's nod, Matthew unlocked the salon's doors and Lars propped his bike up behind the front desk. After Matthew relocked the doors, Lars grabbed his hand and kissed the knuckles softly. He delighted in the pink blush that spread across Matthew's cheeks, pulling him in close as they walked around the corner. Lars rounded the front of Matthew's car after he unlocked it, and pulled open the door. His knees knocked against the dashboard, but adjusting the seat quickly rectified the issue. The car ride was comfortable and quick. They chatted amiably, Lars occasionally stealing Matthew's hand to leave kisses on his fingers, and Matthew just laughed. The house they pulled up to was quaint and homey. Lars truly hoped Matthew's fathers and brother liked him and didn't push him and Matthew apart.

A choppy blond-haired man opened the door as Lars and Matthew made their way up the sidewalk. He smiled at the couple, green eyes bright and friendly.

"Matthew, I'm so glad you came. I've been missing you terribly," he said, embracing Matthew tightly. He turned to Lars and reached to shake his hand. "You must be Lars. I'm Arthur Kirkland, Matthew's father."

"It's nice to meet you, sir. Matthew has told me quite a bit about you and his family," Lars replied, shaking his hand firmly.

It was the next man Lars met that made him a bit uneasy. Alfred, Matthew's older brother, was stern with him at first. Until Matthew scowled and hissed something at him, that is. Then he grinned manically and clapped Lars on the back. It seemed he had passed the test and was quickly accepted into the family. Matthew kissed him in front of the others, and there were no complaints whatsoever. Lars occasionally caught Arthur or Francis watching the two of them, smiling wistfully as they saw just how happy Matthew was.

Dinner was delicious and filling, making Matthew quiet and pliable. He curled up on the couch next to Lars, nestling his head against the Dutchman's shoulder. There was a slight stiffness and unmentioned presence in the room that no one dared to broach. Alfred's deployment was something none of the family, nor Lars, wanted to accept. Matthew even held Alfred close for just a moment longer than necessary before he and Lars left for the evening.

"You packed my box, right?" Matthew smoothed his hands over Alfred's shoulder.

"I did. And I won't open it until I'm at the base. I promise," Alfred assured his brother. "Love you, Mattie."

Matthew smiled shakily. "I love you, too, Al. I'll see you later."

"Always." Alfred smiled and rubbed Matthew's back as he turned to leave with Lars.

Both men waved to Alfred before they drove off, and Matthew let out a shuddering breath.

"Are you alright, baby?" Lars asked softly, laying his hand over Matthew's on the gear shift.

"I will be. Hopefully."

It was the only answer Lars got, but it was enough. They parked in front of the salon and Matthew unlocked the doors to let Lars retrieve his bike. Lars enveloped Matthew in his arms, holding the smaller man close.

"I'm here if you need absolutely anything, Matthew. Don't hesitate to call me or come over, alright?" Lars kissed Matthew's temple.

"Okay, I won't. Tell me when you have practice next week; I may come and watch if I'm allowed." Matthew pulled back to look up at his lover.

"I'm sure my coach wouldn't mind if you came to watch. I'll ask him and get back to you on that. Have a good night," Lars said, leaning down to kiss Matthew softly before mounting his bike. "I'll see you soon."

Matthew nodded, catching Lars's shirt before he could leave and stood on his toes to kiss him again. Their lips molded together and moved smoothly. When they parted, both men were smiling indulgently and breathing heavily. Lars winked at the Canadian before standing up on his pedals and taking off. Matthew just sighed heavily and turned back to his car. He drove to his apartment a bit dejectedly, thoughts of the days to come swirling around in his mind. They mixed with the happy thoughts of Lars and that smile of his. The next few days would surely dampen his mood and he hoped Lars wouldn't leave him for it.

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><p>Watching Alfred walk away, his medals gleaming in the harsh light and the blue of his uniform reminding Matthew of the sky his brother would soon by flying in, was one of the most painful things he'd ever experienced. He sank down into a chair, swallowing with difficulty. Arthur and Francis watched until Alfred was through security, people shifted aside to allow him the chance to pass through first, and disappeared up the escalator before they turned to their younger son. Matthew wasn't faring well. He'd desperately hoped Alfred would never be deployed and would never have to risk his life, but Alfred had just been itching to be sent overseas and there was nothing Matthew could do to bring him back.<p>

"_Matthieu,_ would you like to come home with your father and me? Maybe staying at home for a few days would lessen the pain a bit. You know you're always welcome to stay with us, _mon ange," _Francis offered, crouching in front of Matthew and rubbing a hand across his knee.

"Not today, _Papa. _Maybe another day. I have some things to do," Matthew answered almost automatically.

"Of course. Come over anytime, love. We'd love to have you." Arthur's voice was slightly shaky, but still as strong as ever.

Matthew just nodded and stood on unsteady legs. He hugged his fathers, lingering in each of their embraces to remember he still had family there for him. They let him go a bit reluctantly, and didn't let him see the tears that gathered quickly in their eyes as he departed.

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><p>Rapping unevenly on the door, Matthew struggled to keep the tears at bay. But as soon as the door opened, he lost every last shred of composure he'd managed to keep in place. Lars held him close, closing the door to his apartment and locking it one-handed before leading Matthew to the couch. He cradled Matthew against his chest, stroking his soft blond hair and whispering sweet nothings to him; anything to quell the tears that continued to soak his T-shirt. But Matthew continued to sob, the occasional wail making it through as his anguish peaked.<p>

How long it was before he calmed, neither knew. His sobs turned into watery hiccups, tears more easily wiped away. Although Matthew's cheeks were flushed and blotchy, eyes sore and red, Lars still nuzzled in for a comforting kiss. He pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes and just letting Matthew rest for a moment.

"I worry for him so much," Matthew eventually whispered brokenly. "We've always been so close. It was almost as if we were twins. Dad and _Papa_ always swore we were twins born three years apart."

"I could tell you care for each other just the other night. He seemed almost apologetic that he was leaving from what I gathered. He truly loves you, Matthew. Don't ever forget that," Lars soothed, tucking some hair behind Matthew's ear. "While you were in the kitchen with your dads last night, Alfred gave me something. When he heard that you were with someone, he wrote a letter. He said that I was allowed to tell you about it after he was gone. Do you want to know what he wrote?"

Matthew nodded quickly, pushing tears from his eyes. Lars kissed him on the forehead, cupping his hands around Matthew's jaw.

"He asked me to take care of you. Not because he thinks you're unable to care for yourself, but because he knows you won't go to anyone for help. He knew exactly how you were going to react to his leaving because he knows just how much you love him. Alfred gave me the address to send him things and the link to video chat with him. He wants to know everything we get up to. Just because he's gone, doesn't mean he can't still be a part of our lives." Lars stroked his thumb across Matthew's cheek, taking in just how tired the young man looked.

"He doesn't want to lose contact with you so he's telling me to make sure he gets at least some information about you while he's gone. He also said to tell you that his deployment could be as short as six months to a year and not to worry too much about him. He knows how to handle himself over there."

Matthew smiled shakily and rested his head against Lars's broad shoulder. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes, it was a very long letter, but I think you should try to take a nap right now. I'll get you something to drink." Lars settled Matthew on the couch before standing; his knees cracked.

Curling up against one of the plush throw pillows, Matthew sniffled quietly and blinked back more tears as he thought of his brother. No one could replace the one person he'd looked up to since childhood. He was already drifting when Lars crouched beside him with a glass of water. Drowsily, Matthew drank half of it before settling back down. Lars stroked Matthew's hair away from his face, touching his lips to the warm forehead. Matthew snuggled down into the couch when Lars smoothed a blanket over him and weakly grasped at Lars's hand.

"Thank you."

Lars kissed Matthew's fingers, tucking his hand close to his body. "You're welcome, baby. Sleep now."

When he knew Matthew was asleep, his breathing slow and face relaxed, Lars located a spiral notebook and settled down in the armchair. He watched Matthew for a moment before beginning to write. He wasn't going to leave Alfred's letter unanswered.


End file.
